You Idiot
by Hisa-Ai
Summary: Arthur Pendragon was an idiot—obviously. He was the biggest idiot Merlin had ever known, and Merlin was going to make sure everyone knew it. But first, he needed to make sure Arthur knew he was an idiot. And then he needed to kiss him. Before any of that, however... He needed to find him.


_You Idiot_

* * *

*.*.*.*.*

Arthur Pendragon was an idiot— _obviously_.

He was the biggest idiot Merlin had ever known, and Merlin was going to make sure _everyone_ knew it—he didn't know how he was going to accomplish such a feat just yet, but God was he going to make it happen. He didn't care if he had to take out an ad in the paper or on television or hire a skywriter—whatever it took to make sure the entire world knew that Arthur Pendragon was an idiot, Merlin was going to make it happen damnit.

But first, he needed to make sure _Arthur_ knew he was an idiot, needed to make sure he knew that, this time, he'd _really_ made a complete and utter ass of himself.

And then he needed to kiss him.

Before any of _that_ , however...

He needed to **_find_ ** him.

*.*.*.*.*

Arthur usually wasn't a difficult bloke to locate, his mobile was practically glued to his hand, he was always quick to return a call or text, was always at home or one of his friend's homes or a usual hang-out. He wasn't exactly predictable—on the contrary, being friends with him proved to bring a good bit of spontaneity into one's life—but he enjoyed his comfort zone as much as the next person, and whenever he was recovering from... failure, rejection, a break-up, bad news of any sort, he could usually be found some place familiar to him, some place comfortable to lick his wounds and drown his sorrows in peace without feeling awkward or like he was out of place.

So if he couldn't be found at his flat, at one of their friends' place, or at Merlin's, there was a good chance he was at his favorite pub. But ah, _that_ had been the start of this whole mess, hadn't it? Arthur had spent too much time with too many idiots—though not enough drinks to simply brush the rest of the evening off as a result of that, if Merlin was to believe what he'd been told—there the night before and, well, then the rest of the night had happened and now he was nowhere to be found. Arthur might have been an idiot, but God, even _he_ wasn't **that** big of an idiot.

No, there was absolutely no way he was back at that damned pub. Absolutely none.

(Though even that thought hadn't been enough to keep Merlin from stopping in there anyway, just to be _sure_ Arthur wasn't _that_ big of an idiot. And thankfully, he wasn't.)

But he _wasn't_ at Merlin's flat, and he _wasn't_ at his own, or his sister's, or that damned pub, and each call and text Merlin sent off to their friends came back with bewilderment and a negative answer. Because if _Merlin_ didn't know where Arthur was, they insisted, well, then what on earth made him think anyone else would know? No, if Merlin didn't already know where Arthur was, he didn't want to be found and Merlin should just let him sleep off his hangover in peace.

They all said that, all insisted that he'd text Merlin as soon as he woke up or decided he could handle people again, and saw the plethora of texts and missed calls, and he would tease Merlin, his smirk evident through the phone, and they'd get together that night to watch a movie or whatever, and everything would be _fine_.

They all said that, but God, they hadn't been there the night before when Arthur had come to Merlin's door, hadn't heard what Merlin had been told, hadn't heard the _I love you,_ hadn't seen the way Arthur's face had crumbled when he realized—when he'd realized what he said and that Merlin wasn't saying anything back—God. They hadn't heard the apology, hadn't seen him take off down the hall before Merlin could get his wits and say it right back. They hadn't seen how not drunk he'd been, didn't seem to know that he wasn't sleeping off a _hangover_ , he was sleeping off a broken heart that Merlin would do anything to mend, if only he could **_find_ ** the damn prat.

God, Merlin was never going to forgive himself if he couldn't find Arthur and tell him what he hadn't been able to the night before. _Why_ hadn't he been able to say anything back? Arthur had been _right there,_ had been pouring his heart out, and all Merlin would have had to do was do the same, but his tongue hadn't been working, his mouth wouldn't move, wouldn't say the words that he desperately wanted and needed to say.

He'd woken up that morning, however, from what little sleep he had _actually_ managed to get after Arthur had left, with a new sense of determination and some semblance of sense about him, and knew that he needed to find Arthur, needed to say everything he hadn't the night before, but God, that stupid prat…

He spent his whole day out and about, searching flats and pubs and hangouts and shooting off texts and making calls, and of course, Arthur was nowhere he looked, nowhere he called, nowhere he _should_ have been, and Merlin could have found it in himself to be worried, if he wasn't starting to get so angry. Where did Arthur get off, anyway? Coming to his flat in the middle of the night, saying what he'd said, and the running off with some half-assed apology trailing behind him? And then disappearing the entire day afterwards? Not answering calls or texts? He was an _idiot_ , and Merlin wasn't so sure anymore that he wanted to kiss the idiot as soon as he next saw him so much as he wanted to tear his head off.

But since he couldn't seem to find the idiot anyway, it was a moot point, and he resigned himself to the fact that he would just have to wait for Arthur to decide he wanted to talk to Merlin again before he could do either of those things. As much as the thought of waiting even longer killed him, there was nothing to be done about it.

So he returned home that night empty-handed, no texts or calls or Arthur himself at his heel, just his keys and a phone full of nothing too terribly helpful at all. And he expected he would spend the entire night moping about, but, well, there was nothing he could do about that.

He was taken _completely_ off guard when he arrived at his door and saw Arthur himself sitting against the wall, settled quite comfortably with his arms crossed and his eyes closed, as though he'd been there for a while.

Well, at least there was _that_ problem solved, Merlin couldn't help but think, grinning slightly as he went about unlocking his door, stomach twisting nervously as he did. He'd spent the whole day thinking about _finding_ Arthur, he hadn't considered at all what he would actually say to the prat when he found him. Not at length, anyway, not beyond a vague sense of echoing what Arthur had said the night before—sans the 'I'm sorry,' that was.

Door opened and heart still thudding much too loudly in his chest, Merlin turned to address the obviously napping Arthur, took a moment to take in the rather adorable sight of him lying there like that, before he cleared his throat, and called out his name.

His eyes popped open suddenly, and he scrambled to his feet in his still half-asleep state, surprised and, God, still too good looking for his own good as he did it, too.

"Merlin! I—"

" _Ah_!" Merlin interrupted, holding up a hand to silence and stop him in his tracks. He pointed to his opened door, said, "Inside. _Now_. Can't have you running off on me again," he shook his head, nodded towards his door before he turned to make his way through it himself.

He hadn't _actually_ expected Arthur to listen to him, he'd hoped, of course, that he would be able to get Arthur inside with the door safely locked so they could hash this out, but God, he hadn't actually been expecting it. So when Arthur trailed silently behind him into his flat, and closed the door behind himself… it surprised him enough so that he just turned around right there in front of the door to face Arthur, eyebrow quirked curiously.

"You're… probably wondering about last night," Arthur began then, without waiting for Merlin to say another word, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes darted so they were on anywhere _but_ Merlin for that short moment. They flickered back to him a second later, and Merlin shook his head.

"I… was wondering where you took off to, why you just…" he waved his hand vaguely about the air in the suddenly too small space there was between them. "… _left_ before I could react. I spent the entire day searching for you, you know—had me worried half to death," he added suddenly, tone chastising.

"I know, I'm sorry," Arthur sighed. "But I didn't…"

" _Think_?" Merlin supplied for him when he seemed unable or unwilling to finish the thought himself.

"No, I did, but… maybe _too_ much," Arthur corrected. "I thought… you were going to tell me that I was completely out of line last night, that you were going to tell me… there was no way we could ever be… **_we_**. That you don't…" he trailed off in a sigh, shaking his head as he did. "I was just scared, alright?"

"You're not one to run when you get scared. That's never seemed to be the Pendragon way."

"No. I'm not and it's not. But… I've never quite dealt with the sort of fear I felt last night. The fear of losing your friendship, of losing you, is… new. And not the sort of thing I can just get over in a split second at two in the morning," Arthur shrugged. "I was absolutely terrified coming back here to wait for you today, but… I figured if you were going to rip my heart out of my chest, I should give you the chance to do it in person."

Merlin shook his head once again, Arthur had _really_ made a mess of things—so he thought, anyway. God, Merlin could see it in his eyes, he _was_ absolutely terrified of being there just then, of Merlin breaking his heart in half, of being told that his love was completely one-sided and that they couldn't even be friends anymore.

Leave it to _Arthur_ to make Merlin feel _bad_ about wanting to call him an absolute moron.

"I'm not going to rip your heart out of your chest, Arthur," Merlin said at last. "Bit too messy for my taste. I was thinking… of doing something else, actually…"

"Yeah? What's that?" Arthur asked, tilting his head curiously as Merlin took a step close to him, something flickering in his eye that made Merlin's stomach flutter in anticipation as he moved closer still, backing Arthur carefully against his door.

"I think you can guess," he murmured, leaning in to press his lips to Arthur's then, one hand bracing itself against the door Arthur was leaning against, the other reaching to touch and trace along Arthur's neck lightly for a brief— _too_ brief, really—moment, before he was pulling back again, the half-lidded, blissful look on Arthur's face just then suddenly making the entire day he'd spent out and searching for him well worth it.

"If you'd given me a minute before you'd taken off on me last night," Merlin began then, fingers trailing from Arthur's neck to his chest to his hip. "I _would_ have said _I love you too._ You idiot."

" _Oh_!" Arthur exhaled, his surprise too apparent and amusing for a second. "I really fucked this all up then, didn't I? We could've been doing this since last night if I hadn't…"

"Yeah. But… no rule that says we can't start getting caught up on all that lost time _now_ , is there?"

"Not that I can recall…"

Merlin chuckled at his coy tone, at how quickly he'd gone from terrified to flirtatious, and leaned back in and pressed Arthur harder against the door as his lips pressed insistently, greedily against Arthur's, reveling in the feel of Arthur's hands coming up and around him to tug him impossibly closer.

As soon as Merlin got his fill of Arthur and his damned lips, he was going to make sure he called him an idiot at least a dozen or so more times, but God, that would come later.

 _So much_ later.

*.*.*.*.*


End file.
